Acceptance
by FlightFeathers
Summary: A departure leads to a change. A change both Nancy and Joe find hard to cope with. Especially Joe. Nancy tries to make him see and believe, even when she can't herself. Joe tries to keep her alive, even when he can't live himself. Frank didn't think a case could get out of control; Nancy and Joe knew it would. And that left them both breathless.
1. Denial

**Hi! This is my first fanfic, guys! I hope you will enjoy it. :)**

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Chapter # 1: _Denial_

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Joe stared. Just stared on. He did not understand why Nancy was deathly pale; why his father was holding his mother around the waist and making cooing noises; why his aunt was shaking uncontrollably on her seat and sobbing in her hands.

Why were they mourning? What had transpired to make them feel this way? Why couldn't_ he_ understand? Was he the only one standing there and fighting the voices in his head that were pushing him to accept reality? His insides screamed, "_No!"_ His heart denied it. But there was this feeling… this feeling that told him something he didn't want to embrace: "Denial won't lead you anywhere. Accept it." It was lying. It was a lie. But oh! This feeling was familiar. Too familiar. This feeling was what he acted upon almost every time. But did he want to nod his head and give in? Well – Joe wasn't the one to just _give up_.

So he just stood and watched. Watched his mother cry on her husband's shoulder. His father, who had put on a strong, brave front, had unshed tears in his eyes, which he would blink away hurriedly. And Aunt Gertrude was still trembling.

His eyes then fell on Nancy. It was as if all the color had been drained from her face. She was rocking back and forth. What surprised him was that she was not crying. She had her head in her hands and swayed nonstop. How did he know that she was not crying? He could tell by her posture. Her body wasn't racking with sobs. And he just_ knew_. Like he knew every time when it came to her. When it came to_ Nancy._

Joe could tell that she was praying, like he was inside. It was a sort of relief that someone else hadn't given up hope.

Joe felt tired. All of this was too much. Wrapping his head around the facts was exhausting. He wanted to sit down and relax. But he knew that relaxing would be impossible for him presently. So he sat down on the floor and ignored the noise. He sighed wearily. He stood up and went upstairs.

The nineteen year old Hardy entered his room and jumped into his bed. He tried to wash away every worry from his mind for the time being. He closed his eyes, intending to stay like that for only two minutes. Then he changed his mind to five. Then ten. Then fifteen. And this slowly turned into a nine hour sleep.

* * *

Joe woke up with a jolt. The noise downstairs woke him up. He could hear loud exclamations. Joe ran downstairs and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Joe! Joseph! He is gone forever! He is gone! I can't – I can't… This can't_ be_! I don't… They are lying, aren't they, Joe? Tell me! Say something! You were the closest to him! You must know if he is alive! Say something!" Nancy's eyes were huge with anxiety and hope only a child could keep hold of in a hard situation like _this_.

But what could he say? His tongue weighed a ton. He couldn't lift it, twist it._ He couldn't form words. _

Nancy grabbed his shoulders. He was her last hope. He was what her expectations were clinging on to. "_Please! _Tell me, Joey," she said, this time more slowly, her voice barely a whisper, "he is alive, isn't he?"

It was evident that Nancy was in deep denial. And Joe knew he was, too. But he couldn't lie in a situation like this. His guts, brain – his _bones,_ told him that no, it was silly not to accept reality. But his heart told him, _no, it _is _silly to accept reality; it is in fact destroying, torturing, killing and _losing_ oneself._

The words spilled out of his mouth with that _cursed_ uncertainty: "I don't know." Upon hearing this sentence, Nancy gasped and was thrown off-balance. Joe caught her just in time and led her to the couch. Nancy rested her head on Joe's shoulder and did not cry at first. She just stared on, just like he did a few hours ago. Her eyes were devoid of any emotion. They were just blank and hollow. Tears welled up in her clear blue eyes as reality unveiled itself to her. And suddenly, she let escape a loud wail and cried. Her head dug deeper into his shoulder and he could feel her tears soaking his shirt. Her whines were muffled. (It was uncomfortable, really, his wet shirt.)

Joe didn't do anything to soothe Nancy's pain. He just put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her to him.

Time passed. Nancy's whimpers and tears slowly subsided. All the crying had triggered a headache. The warmth Joe's body was providing her made her feel drowsy and her eyelids drooped due to that. She wanted to shut herself out from this cruel world. Slowly, her quick breathing turned into deep breaths.

Joe felt Nancy's tense muscles relax and could hear her breathe deeply. He looked to his right and saw Nancy was asleep. Joe looked around. His mother and father had gone to their room while he was comforting Nancy. And Aunt Gertrude was probably somewhere alone for some peace and quiet so she could drown herself in her grief and cry a river.

Joe looked at the peaceful form next to him and decided to pick her up and take her to Frank's once-room.

He laid her down on the bed and covered her with a quilt. He switched on the lamp because he… he… He didn't know why himself. Joe figured that she might be afraid after what had happened. He looked around the room. Frank's room had remained untouched for who knew how long. And Joe, after so much time, finally got to look, actually _look_, at the whole place.

_Frank really is a neat freak, _Joe thought with a smile. Sometimes it was hard to believe that Frank was his brother. He was an orderly person, and Joe was the complete opposite. "Not _is_, was," muttered Joe as his smile faltered.

He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't just keep his distress bottled up inside him. Joe's chest felt heavy and it felt as if something was trying to escape. He let out a howl. A howl a pained animal would give. He let his tears fall freely and without hesitation.

Joe wasn't crying for the loss of his brother. No, no, no, no, _no_. Joe cried for something better. For Frank's death to be a joke – no matter how cruel and horrible. He cried for things to be a nightmare, and to wake up and to climb next to Frank in his bed and let his older brother lull him to sleep and assure him that he won't ever, ever leave him, and wasn't planning to leave him anytime soon. Oh, what was he _thinking_? Frank had a new home now. A new life. A new life with his _wife_, Nancy. _But he is not living that new life. __Not _now_. Not_ ever_._ _It was once upon a time a hundred years back,_ Joe corrected himself.

And his pain increased. He cried more. A whimper made its way out of his mouth. _My__ best friend won't leave me. Frank wouldn't _dare!

Joe hit his head against the wall lightly, and tried to control himself. He took deep breaths to calm himself down and gave a shuddering sigh.

Joe was determined that he wouldn't believe a word of what everyone said about his brother's death, no matter how his belief was baseless.

_I am Joe Hardy, and I don't give up._

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**So how was it? Was it good? (And please forgive any grammar mistakes I made because English is not my native language.) ****Please! Review! ****And constructive criticism is always welcome. **:D


	2. Questions

**Sorry for the long wait! Here is chapter two.**

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Chapter # 2:_ Questions_

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Joe finally arrived.

He was having his beauty sleep, which failed _again, _because _someone_ didn't want him to rest peacefully. Nancy happened to be that certain someone. She had called him early in the morning. As soon as he accepted the call, he told her that if it was her idea of getting back at him after that time when he had "accidentally" spilled some orange juice on her, she should quit it, because it was _definitely_ not working; she, instead of answering him, told him to come meet her and Frank at their place right then. When he asked her what had happened, she had already hung up.

He didn't bother to change his clothes; he simply grabbed his car keys, and practically fled to his brother's house. (Well, he _did _try not to cross the speed limit.)

He was so angry that he swore that he could feel steam coming out of his ears. (But that would be plain exaggeration because he wasn't _that _angry. He was just annoyed.)

So here he was, right at _her_ service. That devil!

Why was he vexed again? Oh yeah, his sleep had been interrupted, and now he had these bags under his eyes, making him look like a zombie. What will his date even say?! _She won't have the chance to say anything because she won't recognize me. The wonders of looking less handsome. _Joe didn't allow the word "bad" cross his mind, because was absolutely positive that day would never arrive.

He rang the doorbell and stood there, waiting. No one came out. He rang it again. Still no one came out. So he just decided to try the door.

It was locked.

Not the least bit shocking. Lack of sleep wasn't allowing his brain to function properly. _Which the precious and intelligent little Nancy is unaware of_, thought Joe bitterly.

He rang the doorbell again, this time he pressed the button a bit harder, and for a longer time. The cold air was numbing his bare arms. His thin shirt did nothing to help block out the cold. This was adding to his anger.

It had been quite a while standing out here in the cold. Nancy would never take this long, surely. Now he was starting to worry. His chest felt heavy. He hoped nothing was wrong. He felt a bit selfish for getting annoyed at Nancy.

After what felt like hours, Joe faintly heard voices coming from inside the house getting louder and louder, as if two people were arguing. His worries soon died.

He looked at his watch. He had been standing here for more than thirteen minutes. He didn't know why Nancy was taking so much time opening the door. The voices were even louder. And they stayed like that. Joe ran a hand through his hair restlessly.

"Are you guys dead?! If not, then open up, because it is freezing out here!" he was about to scream. He also planned to add a dramatic effect by banging on the door.

But Nancy put a halt to his actions by suddenly materializing in front of him.

"Hi!" she welcomed. She was a bit out of breath and there was a faint pink tainting her cheeks.

All his anger seemed to melt away when he saw her sweet smile. He forgot the cold. He smiled in response. He had this evanescent feeling of disappointment when she didn't hug him like she always did.

Nancy frowned at his appearance. His hair was messy, his shirt was wrinkled, he wasn't wearing anything warm, and his eyes were red. Her eyes wandered over his figure.

"What?" Joe finally asked, getting a bit irritated.

"What do you mean by 'what'?" Nancy imitated his bored voice. "Joe, why haven't you properly covered yourself? You will get yourself sick! And have you even looked at your eyes?!" She held his face in her hands, looking at him thoroughly.

"I know they are beautiful, you don't have to remind me, Nan." Joe fluttered his eyelashes.

"I didn't mean that!" The alarming expression on Nancy's face made Joe smirk.

"You don't have to deny it, Beautiful. Just admit I am irresistible." He looked impossibly smugger.

"Joe Hardy! That's my wife you are flirting with!" Frank, who, just a second ago, was leaning against the wall, and now had his arm around Nancy's waist protectively, exclaimed in mock horror.

Joe couldn't believe that Frank's presence had gone unnoticed by him.

"Aw, Frank, no need to get all over-protective. You know your wife doesn't appreciate your over-protectiveness. Am I right, Nancy?" Joe looked at her.

"I'm afraid you are wrong, Joe." She pinched his left cheek. Joe winced, pouting.

"Frank, don't jump to conclusions, it was just a harmless appreciating-Joe-Hardy's-looks talk." He shrugged.

Frank gave him an old-fashioned look.

"What's with the look, bro?" Joe asked. "Is this how you greet your long-lost brother?" He stopped for a moment. He tapped his chin with his finger, and scrunched up his face, as if contemplating something. Both Nancy and Frank looked curiously at him. Joe nodded quickly and spoke his thoughts out loud: "No, 'long-lost' doesn't sound appropriate, considering the situation. It is better to say, 'Is this how you greet your long-_forgotten _brother?' Yeah, that sounds more like it."

Frank threw him a disapproving look once more. He grabbed Joe's right hand and gave it a firm shake before walking off.

Nancy stared at her husband's retreating figure thoughtfully. Looking back at Joe again, she continued from where they had left off: "You didn't get enough sleep, did you?"

"Yeah, because _someone_ thought it was convenient to wake me up at six in the morning!" Joe could feel the melted anger building up inside him yet again. He looked at Nancy: she was shocked. Her shock was immediately replaced by fury.

"Well, I am sorry for waking you up, but it was urgent, Mister!" Nancy cried.

"Then why don't you tell me what's going on?!" Joe questioned.

"No! I don't think I should tell you because you need to _sleep_! It is better if you go and rest peacefully!"

"I don't think I can rest now because you broke that peace thirty minutes ago!" He pointed at his watch.

"You have been counting time now! Ugh!"

"So what if I have! You should be proud that I keep track of time!" He flailed his arms about. He prepared himself for a fiery retort. But Nancy didn't answer; she only stared at him.

He tilted his head and gauged Nancy's facial expressions. The corners of her mouth were twitching a bit.

Joe managed an unintelligible "Wha…?"

Unexpectedly, Nancy burst out laughing. Joe gawked at her.

"You can be funny when you are angry," she managed between fits of laughter.

"And how is that?" Joe was getting confused. Nancy just shook her head as an answer and continued to laugh (and say something, but her statement remained unfinished as it dissolved into another laugh), which was slowly turning into small giggles.

"It doesn't mean I am talking to you again, Joe," Nancy said, finally composing herself.

"You know," Frank began (he had been observing Nancy and Joe as they bickered), "both of you can be so confusing sometimes."

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The hot water fell over him. The steam eliminating from the water was making him sweat, but it did well in soothing his tense muscles.

Joe was feeling fresh.

He didn't rest, as Nancy had commanded him to (unkindly at that). He just took a long shower, which was sufficient enough to wake him up. He was wearing Frank's clothes. He figured that his brother wouldn't mind (he _knew_ he wouldn't). Whistling, Joe jogged downstairs. He went to the kitchen; he didn't have anything for breakfast.

But as he neared the kitchen, he heard raised voices. He had this feeling that something was up. When he came here, he had heard loud voices, like someone was arguing. And now, the same was being reiterated.

He followed the voices and found them in the garden. Nancy was red in the face and Frank was stiff, meaning he was angry. There was unmistakable – and unpalatable – tension in the air.

"Frank, this is not the way!" Nancy yelled – almost. "You can't just…" Nancy bit her lower lip. "Go away like that!"

"Nancy, could you please stop it?" Wow, Joe had never heard Frank use this tone with her.

"No, I won't," she huffed.

Both were still glaring at each other.

He thought of something to break the silence.

Joe cleared his throat loudly to get their attention. Frank and Nancy's head snapped towards the new sound.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down, guys! The whole town can hear you."

"Sure, Joe," Nancy said, rolling her eyes. He chose to ignore it.

"Nancy, I really think something is up. So, I guess that's why you wanted me here."

"Yay! Joe Hardy finally figured something was wrong." Nancy clapped her hands, feigning excitement.

"Nancy, answer the question," Joe said through gritted teeth.

"What question? Did he ask any question?" Nancy nudged Frank. He didn't answer. She forcefully brought his head down so that his mouth was close to her ear.

"He says no." Nancy widened her eyes and nodded, letting her poor husband (his head, to be more precise) go.

Joe licked his lips, looking disgruntled. "Okay, if that's how you want to act, I'll ask you again: Why did you want me here?"

"Because I did." Nancy smiled a fake smile.

"Why, may I ask?"

"Ask your brother." She jerked her head towards Frank's direction. Then, she strode past Joe, hitting his shoulder with hers a bit painfully – and purposefully – along the way.

"Ouch!" he yelped. After a few seconds, he snorted. "You know what?" he called out. "I don't really care that you don't care about my pain!"

"Sure, Joe!" Nancy repeated the same statement she said a while ago, and walked inside the house.

Joe raised an eyebrow. "What's up with her?"

Frank shook his head and said, "Like you don't know." Then he, too, walked past him.

Joe slowly turned his head and stared over his shoulder at Frank's retreating figure with an open mouth.

Now both his eyebrows were raised. He looked up at the bright sky helplessly and said: "What's up with _both_ of them?"

And then he – just like Frank and Nancy – walked inside the house (only that there wasn't anyone he could march past, much to his dismay).

* * *

Joe didn't know what to do. He was here for two hours, but still he wasn't informed why he was here. Frank was out.

Frank.

Frank was being grumpy. Grumpy and Frank – well, they didn't mix. Grumpy wasn't part of Frank's equation. He had to ask Nancy about it. But first, he needed some information. (He had this feeling that Frank's grumpiness was partially the reason he was here.)

He and Nancy needed to have a serious –

Hey, where _was_ Nancy?

Joe got up from the couch and went to the kitchen, expecting to find her there. But she wasn't there. Kitchen was out of the question then.

He went upstairs. Upon reaching her room, he knocked on the door.

"Come in," he heard a faint voice say.

He pushed the door open.

Nancy was lying on the floor, near the foot of the bed. She was staring up at the ceiling, her eyes observing the pattern. Her eyes would droop close, but would shoot open. It looked as if Nancy was forcing her tired eyes to remain alert.

"Hey, Nancy," Joe said.

She turned her head to look at him. She sat up, nodding in response. She patted the space beside her. He placed himself next to her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"You know I called you for a reason, right?" Nancy said.

"Right," he replied. "But why, you haven't told me."

Nancy sighed, suddenly looking exhausted. She opened her mouth. Without saying something, she closed it. She opened it again. Then closed it. She opened her mouth, and began: "Sometimes, the thought of losing Frank haunted me before we got married. We were nineteen when we decided to marry. Now we are twenty and married. I used to think accepting Frank is a mistake. I thought this because we were teenagers in love, and this type of love dies down as soon as the spark is gone."

Joe listened to her every word attentively. He didn't speak, because he knew there was more to come.

"Dad said to me the same thing once. But now that I realize that yes, our love isn't that stupid teen love, and now that I have fought my fears, why does everything have to fall out of place?" Nancy closed her eyes slowly.

He didn't make a sound. He waited for her to continue.

"Why does Frank have to leave me?" she gasped. He frowned. What did she mean?

She opened her eyes. The tears came pouring out. She wiped them with her hands.

He didn't know what to say. She was stressed out, that was for sure. Sleep helped him when he was stressed out. And he was going to apply the same formula on Nancy. "Nancy, go lie down." He didn't care, she needed to rest.

"I can't," she choked out.

"Yes you can. Now go and rest. I'll handle everything," he assured her.

"That's why I called you," Nancy grinned.

Joe stood up and gave her his hand. She took it and got up. Seconds later, she was under the warmth of the comforter.

He put his hand on her head affectionately.

"I still haven't forgiven you," she reminded him.

He just smiled at her. He pulled the curtains close, blocking the sunlight. He was walking out when he realized he didn't know what exactly he was about to "handle". "Hey Nancy, you didn't tell me what his 'leaving you' means. What _does_ it mean?" His voice was hesitant, unsure. But now that he had asked her, he had to wait for what was to come.

He waited. But no answer came to the question that still hung in the air. And the air couldn't bear it. The air he was _breathing_ in couldn't bear it.

There was silence.

And there was a reason behind that silence. And that reason didn't let the air he was inhaling carry that question. Because the question he asked had an even worse answer.

It was a confusing silence. It was an uncertain silence. It was a nervous silence. It was a heavy silence. It was a terrifying silence. It was an unbearable silence. It was a piercing silence. Confusing and uncertain and nervous and heavy and terrifying and unbearable and piercing…

It was a questionable silence.

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**This was sort of a filler-chapter. (But, it is longer than the one I wrote before.) There has been so much going on that ****I didn't have enough time to think about it.** The nearing exams might be one of the problems. 

**Also, I would like to thank my dear reviewers for their encouragement. I hope you will continue reading and enjoying this. :) **

**Don't forget to share your opinion! ;)**


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